The Bard and the Whore
by merlin effect
Summary: An unhappily successful whore and an disappointingly unsuccessful bard both try to survive on the hard streets of bloodstone. What happens when the young workers find each other?
1. Chapter 1

**I've been thinking about writing this fanfic for a long time but I'm just getting around to it. If you had read the summary you will know what this is about, obviously. I'm not really sure where this story is going yet. I wont update at all unless I get enough reviews.**

**Disclaimer: No ownership whatsoever ****T_T**

I hate Bloodstone. I _hate _it. The dirty cobbled streets, the grey sky, the people; just because I live here, that I'm apart of these dirty disgusting people, means nothing. I still hate Bloodstone. Oh, how I ache for the wonderfully cheerful Bowerstone Townsquare! Those delicious wafts of produce and freshly cooked pie and steak. The little kids underfoot, playing and laughing and running. I haven't been there in nearly five months or so. Only when my job demanded my presence in Old Town did I get to visit there. A rather intimidating place, now that I think about it. All those middleclass and aristocrat townspeople staring at me with all that disdain. Perhaps I had brought it on to myself, what with wearing my patchy coat over my corset and raunchy skirt.

Anyway, back from my reminiscing. I've got a job to do. A dirty thug starts to walk by, that hungry look in his eyes. Stepping forward and leaning towards him slightly, I whisper invitingly "How would you like a wild night, bad boy?" Not ashamed a bit, the thug looks me up and down.

"Oh yeaaah," he growls throatily.

The thug grabs my arm and walks me down the steps and streets until we reach a rundown hovel I guess is his house. People stare at us the whole way, knowing exactly what's going to happen. My "client" opens the door and gestures for me to go in. As I enter he shuts the door behind us. For a second I hesitated, staring at the dirty bed.

"Lay down!" he yells harshly, poking me in the back. Silently I go forward and stretch out, staring up at the man. Slowly he stalks forward and crawls on the bed and on top of me. Immediately he leans forward and starts to kiss me roughly. The kiss goes on and on until I swear my face starts to go blue from lack of oxygen. The thug fiddles with the buttons on my corset until he just rips it apart. Finally he breaks our lips apart to stare at my bare chest with a leer. His yellow eyes scared me about as much as his green and brown teeth disgusted me. Just then he shatters the silence that had only been filled with his gasps and moans. Staring at me with a wild gaze and breathing heavily he smirks "I'm ready for my wild night." That's when he starts to scoot himself down the bed. When his face becomes level with my thighs he stops and starts to lift my skirt. That's when I close my eyes and will myself.

Will myself to a better place.

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"How would you like a ballad, my dear Hero?" I ask hopefully. The Hero of Bowerstone passes by with nothing more then a disdainful glance before continuing up the street. "Only ten coin a song!" I call after him hopefully, needing to earn some gold. This time the Hero turns around completely, staring at me with blank eyes. At first glance he seems beautiful, I think suddenly. With his bright blonde hair pulled up in to a ponytail and his sapphire eyes; they were enough to make every woman and a lot of men fall over themselves. His build is tall and muscular with light blue will lines webbing across his arms and neck. The image of a perfect, good hero.

Then, as I let my gaze linger on the hero, Lionheart, other things start to show. Like the way his light tan skin had quite a few blemishes. And whenever his teeth showed they were green and yellow dentures. Finally there was the fact that flies flew around him in great numbers, probably attracted by the barley audile stench that wafted around him. Sure, maybe he is good enough to sacrifice his family to save thousands of lives. But he is also corrupt enough to over tax all his buildings and food stalls or eat enough meat and drink enough liquor that a potbelly is starting to take shape.

I had just finished my quick observation when the hero finally reacts. With a sneer he lifts his fists with the middle fingers sticking out. Then, to add insult, he keeps gesturing like that until he seems to think the message sank in. Then he turns and once again walks up the street, this time not even looking back. But even after this awful act I swear I could still see what looked like a halo float above his corrupt head.

Felling my dark cheeks redden I turn towards the docks, leaving behind the jeering voices of the Bloodstoners. Once I felt I was at a respectable distance away I fall to the ground with a huff. Pulling off my hat and lute, I lean against the wall behind me. From my spot I could see all across the Waterfront. Which might not be such a good thing now that I think about it. Smiling to myself softly, I wiggle around a bit trying to get comfy. But soon I find that stone walls can never really get comfy so I settle for just sitting there, listening to the sounds of the busy port. So it wasn't the bustling chatter of Bowersone, the crackling fires of the Gypsy Camp, or the quiet murmur of growing in Oakfield. But it was still _people_, people around me so I wasn't alone. Alone in a forest filled with rustlings an snappings and…

No, I mentally scold myself. Don't think about that. Not tonight. Once again I twitch around, ending up with my head tilted back. "Good night, Roland," I whisper to myself sadly, closing my eyes and falling asleep as the sun goes down.


	2. Chapter 2

I woke when the sun rose over the water. The pink and yellow light effectively pulls me from whatever dream I might have been having. I sit up, rubbing my sore shoulder. Sleeping on cold stone wasn't the smartest thing I've done. "I hate Bloodstone," I mutter angrily, wiping my longish black hair out of my eyes. My conviction that I didn't mind being in this stupid town died in the humid night. Since there is next to no fresh water supply other then the horrid stuff that you're supposed to drink, I and my clothes have remained unwashed in the three days since I stepped of the captain's ship.

Groaning quietly, I stand up slowly as my sore legs creak and pop. I bend down and pick up my lute. For a moment I lovingly stroke the neck before strapping it to my back. Turning so that I'm facing away from the ocean, I lean over to pick up my bards hat. Running a hand through my hair and knocking off a few head lice, I snort in disgust and shake my head at my predicament. When I finally look up, I see her.

She staggered slightly, which is common among these Bloodstoners. Even from here, I see the way her chestnut hair gleam. Her skin is a strange pale color. Strange, because the harbor's sun always seems to beat down relentlessly from the sky. But the thing that held me in place, the detail that made me feel like me insides were twisted and boiling: the girl is incredibly, enchantingly beautiful.

So there I am, my mouth hanging open and drooling like and idiot when she happens to stop suddenly and glance abruptly in my direction. Instead of looking disgusted like I expected, she just smiles and flips her hair over her shoulder before turning on her heel and strutting off. I'm so intent on watching the swaying of her hips that I fail to notice the raunchy skirt that hung from them. As she disappears from view, I shake my head like a dog, trying to force the muddling feeling her presence had brought. _Roland. You're Roland, the bard, and you have a lute and you sing and play music. You need to go to the tavern._

"Tavern," I mutter quietly under my breath. I walk down the dirt incrusted streets of Bloodstone while at the same time only seeing the shining dark hair and delicate curves of the beauty I had seen.

* * *

Later, around five o clock, I'm sitting in the tavern, strumming a quiet tune. The barman is paying me fifty coins to play tonight, which might be enough to pay for a ship to Wescliffe then a carriage ride to Oakfield. I refuse to walk through the Bandit and Balverine infested areas. No matter what.

People stood around me, some watching and listening while others simply ignored me. I ignore the already drunk thugs as I try to get lost in my music. Smoke fills the room, smelling of driftwood. I try not to think about where I am and just listen to the music. The song flowed through me and my instrument and into the air in a seamless rhythm. My surroundings melt away and I no longer know where I am.

"Excuse me, sir. Do you take requests?" the soft, breazy voice made me freeze for a moment. As I slowly lift my eyes from my dingy boots, already I know who it is. Of course- the girl from the harbor. I finally get to see her eyes: sky blue framed by long, black eyelashes. Staring mutely, I nod slowly. She smiles gently; almost like she's sorry for the way I must be messed up in the mind. And still I play my song's notes, one of those songs that have no need for lyrics. When I finally finish the complicated ending the girl hooped a finger around mine and pulled me away from the front and into a secluded corner in the back of the tavern.

"But I'm supposed to be performing…" I protest weakly as I sit.

"Do you want anything?" she asks, ignoring my objection. I shake my head but she's already gone. The girl goes over and chats with the barman. I could see from the way he rubbed his bald head and kept flashing his missing teeth that he is just as tongue-tied by the girl as me. She motions over at me a few times though I couldn't hear the conversation. They both laugh and he hands her two drinks with a wide smile. She doesn't pay.

Effortlessly, she weaves he way through the crowd and tables. A few men called out things I don't understand and a few reached out towards her. But she ignores them all and only has eyes for the table she wants to get to. When she sits down, she smiles at me and hands me a dark brown bottle. I stare at it uncertainly as she takes a long drink from her own.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask abruptly. I immediately regret how rude I sound and look away. The girl lowers her bottle slowly and stares at my shoulder as she answers.

"You're different from the other men here. I like that. So I wanted to get to know you." I thought about asking why she couldn't have waited, then remembered the scene where she got the drinks. She must be used to getting what she wanted… again I'm ashamed of my thoughts and have to look away, at a burn mark on the wall.

"What do you want to know?"

"Well…what's your name?"

"Roland Jr." I answer, brushing my overlong bangs from my eyes. The girl raises a slender eyebrow.

"Were you named after your father?" I nod. "What was he like?"

"He was a bard, from the gypsy camp. He liked to travel a lot, too. He was one of the first ones who saw the Hero after he slayed Thag the Impatient."

"Truly?" she asks.

"Yes!" I nod, more excitedly this time. The thought of my father always did. Automatically, I take my eyes of the wall and look at hers. "He traveled all over Albion!" At this, I gestured widely at the world for emphasis. "He dedicated all his works to the Hero and his deeds."

"You must be proud."

"I am."

"So what's the gypsy camp like?" the girl asks, leaning forward on her hand.

"Very beautiful. The trees are very tall and ancient feeling, so the forest always seems calm and quiet. The leaves make the shade all dappled and light green over the caravans, like, um, like… nature's stain glass! Yeah, that's it. Anyway, there's always a storyteller or singer or dancer around. Everyone shares everything, which is why we never went hungry: fires, meals, caravans…" I smile at past memories before ducking my head, embarrassed. Laughing, the girl flips her hair off her shoulder while her eyes roam the smoke-choked tavern. Suddenly, the smile falls and her eyes grow wide.

"What's wrong?" I ask worriedly.

"Nothing…" the girl answers. Now she's smiling, though it didn't seem to reach her eyes. "I must go." She stands abruptly, taking a step towards the door.

"Wait!" I plead, trying not to sound desperate. "I don't even know your name!"

"Lorraine," she says shortly.

"Well when can I see you again?" I knew I sounded whiny but still. The thought of never seeing this girl again… Already I feel the ache.

Lorraine smiles gently and this time it did warm her gaze as she leans down and whispers "I'm leaving for Wescliffe tomorrow. I'd love it if you'd join me." Her cool fingertips caressed my warm cheek as she takes her leave, making me shudder, but not in a bad way. I don't watch her leave. With a shake of my head, I take a drink of the brown liquid I still held. So bitter my eyes began to water, I stand and pick up my lute. Strumming a quiet note, I go back to my previous seat, ready to make my fifty coins. I'll need it for the boat to Wescliffe.

**AN: Alright you guys, I'm really sorry about how long it took to update. I just got a working computer and once I saw I had a story I needed to update I tried to conjure up this crappy chapter. Again sorry!! R&R xD**


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